


The House

by hmmwatt



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pre-Slash, Spiders, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 06:06:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16235714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmmwatt/pseuds/hmmwatt
Summary: The tiny house is shrouded in the mist, crawling with spiders.Andrew hears voices that shouldn’t be there.





	The House

 

_Hey Andrew_ , a bubbly voice echoes. _Andrew, look what I found!_ He feels something bubble within him in answer, that which is not joy, oh for sure. There is a dull tap, tap, tap, and a doll’s head rolls at his feet, gently bumping at the front of his shoe and coming to a full pause. Among the mess of black hair, a muddied face stares up at him. 

_Oh, Glorna_. The joyous voice trails closer. _I’ve been looking for her everywhere_. Andrew slowly raises his head. Beyond the bones of pale wooden lattices, the tiny house is still shrouded in the mist.

 

•—— •••• • •—• •

 

“You can’t. You really can’t go on like this.”

 Andrew watches Shane’s oversized T-shirt, the sad downturn of his mouth. Ryland sits opposite, holding his other hand, big worrying eyes.

 “Andrew, talk to us. You are not alone in this, you know that.”

 But what can he say? His mouth, eyes, skin, everything feels dry. His hands seem to crumble between the two friends, slipping between the fingers like sand. He catches a glimpse at Ryland’s fingernails. They seem to sparkle for a moment. Another giggle rings out. _Look, Andrew! Our nails! Ooh, does anyone wanna be scratched?_ He feels light scratches on his arm and visibly flinches. Shane and Ryland look at him, then at each other. Andrew intently stares down at his lap.

 

•— •—• •

 

He stays up late, blankly watching the TV blare whatever it has on its mind. It’s mostly white noise anyway. The screen’s been acting weird, images flickering in and out of existence. He feels a presence snugly fit next to him, the empty sofa dipping very slightly. He raises his digital camera.

_Aw, I didn’t know you were going to film!_ The voice, much closer now, giggles. The corner of his mouth twitches very slightly. He would smile if he could. _No, Andrew, stop, don’t film me. I’m not ready_. Easy laughter and just a tinge of whine. Unable to laugh in return, Andrew shrugs one free shoulder. There is a warm weight on the other shoulder, warm but hollow. He blinks a few times. He would cry if he could. He feels arms around him, a 6’ 4” presence enveloping his frame. _Hey, hey, now. Don’t make that face. Please_. The voice sounds genuinely sorry, it always does. But who was there to fault? Andrew nods. Then he stretches his arms out, turns the camera towards himself, and takes a picture. Flickering of red light and a shock of flash.

He checks the picture, one shoulder still heavy, leaning slightly toward emptiness. He sees his tired self. Stubble getting out of hand, messy hair, blank eyes, just a slight twitch to his lips. And he sees the unusual circle of light next to him. The voice goes quiet.

“I thought you’d be excited by this,” Andrew mutters to himself. “You’re always finding orbs when we go ghost hunting.” His own voice falls empty through the room. The weight is lifted.

 

—•—— ——— ••—

 

_Andrew! I found my ribbon!_ He wakes up to a mess of tangled red ribbons, the pebbled ground stabbing his back. He is not in his house anymore, not on the sofa where he passed out. The cool, damp smell of early morning soil reaches him. He turns over, sees the toy house with its tiny grandma and tinier gnome. Spiders infest the bug manor now. Soon they will take over the whole property, he thinks.

_Look, Andrew, it’s you. You when you found my ribbon_. Another laugh, a ribbon placed in his hand. He blinks a few times and sits up. The patio of the tiny house seems bleached of colour, the red across his hand like a gash. He tries to make a sound. Unintelligible words stick to the back of his parched throat.

_Oh_. The voice rushes to him, soft breath next to his ears. He knows it’s not really there. _No, Andrew, no, I’m sorry. I just— please, I hate to see you like this_. He feels hands around his shoulders, he knows he cannot touch them. He grips the ribbon in his hand, nails digging into his palm. He is here, and _he_ is not here.

_I’m sorry_ , the voice speaks, barely a whisper over the wind.

Just the faintest touch passes over his hair. Andrew draws a shuddering breath, stands up.

Shane stares at him in concern when he shows up at the front door. Understandable, Andrew thinks. It’s a mess. He has mud on his jeans and cheeks, dirt under his fingernails. Morgan helps him get rid of the few stray cobwebs caught on his jacket. Ryland shoves a warm cup of coffee in his hand, saying he looked as if he hasn’t slept for days. Cheeto and the dogs, they won’t come near him.

 

•——• •—•• • •— ••• •

 

Morgan visits him some other time. Her face without makeup is blotchy, but she really doesn’t mind. Salt marks, Andrew thinks. He cannot see them but he knows. All of them have been going around with blurred eyes and streaky faces, like ghosts, all of them these past few days. Or has it been weeks? His cheeks felt damp every time he woke up. He wondered whose it was.

She holds a baby in her arms. It takes him a second to realize who it is. _Aww_ , the voice coos next to him. Morgan hugs the plastic baby once, tight, then holds it out to him. It feels unnaturally heavy in his hands.

“It’s Tyler.” She tries to speak calmly. He can hear the slight hitch, but he doesn’t say anything. “Tyler might,” she carries on, bravely, “I thought he might help. You know.” She makes a vague gesture.

“He’ll like it,” he finishes for her. “Yeah,” she nods, uncertain. “Yeah.”

He is going to like it, Andrew thinks, and nods back. “Thank you, Morgan.”

_Thank you, Morgan!_ Bright voice echoes his words excitedly. _Now Benjamin will have a friend. He won’t be so lonely_. She turns her head, but barely hears anything over the rustling of leaves. The voice scatters away in the wind. Her eyes seem to mist over for a moment.

 

—•• ——— —• •————• —

 

_I thought of a cool death, can I tell you?_ There is the familiar face, the whispers from memory _. A bunch of bugs carry me away to their bug kingdom._ Andrew flinches awake, his legs tangled in blankets. His heart is about to jump out of his mouth. The clock reads 04:37. At least he’s still in his house. Small mercies.

He turns his head to see Tyler sitting upright against the headboard. When did he put it there? He can’t seem to remember these days. He leans in closer to find faint streaks of dirt and red paint on the doll, on the carpet and the sheets. Maybe _he_ was right about Benjamin walking by night. Traveled all this way to tuck in his friend.

Sitting up, trying to function, he rubs his shoulder and looks out the window. The dawn is pale, blanched sunlight. He sees a tiny spider spinning away at the corner of his windowsill.

 

•—•• • •— •••— •

 

Andrew steps into the walkway leading to the house. More cobwebs have taken hold, covering what few undead leaves there’s left, hanging onto dry branches. It’s too cold even for this time of the year. He shrugs his jacket closer and pulls down his cap.

_Is it you, Andrew?_ The voice calls from within. It sounds muffled, probably stuck in all the weird stuff cluttered in there. He flicks away some webs stuck on the doorknob and enters the house. He can’t really see anything in the dimmed light, so he pulls out his phone and treads carefully. The spiders have taken over indoors as well. “I thought you were gonna clean this place?” He calls out, stepping over disintegrating boxes while trying not to get caught on freshly-made webs. _Oh, shut up_. The voice calls back from somewhere deeper in the house.

He finds Benjamin on the floor, right in the middle of all the mess. The sight makes him jump slightly. The doll is seated in a different direction, but the face is turned towards him. The head lolls a bit, as if asking a question. He carefully picks him up and walks further in, holding Benjamin in one arm, his phone on the other.

He reaches the room, the main room, and looks around. Everything seems to waver in shadows in the flashlight. He finds some room on the bed among all the clutter, as if somebody had carefully cleaned that little patch. He settles Benjamin on the bed. _Oh hey, you brought Benjamin!_ The voice is much clearer in his ear now. _I was wondering where he went. You know what it’s like when he’s on the loose_.

“Yeah,” Andrew mutters with a sigh. “And guess who else I brought.” He pulls out Tyler from his backpack. _Oooh!_ The voice very nearly screeches and breaks out in that bubbly laughter. _Oh my god, you are amazing, Andrew, you know that?_ Oh, that contagious laughter. He ducks his head and casually removes a spider from his jacket.

 

—•• ——— —• •————• —

 

“You can’t keep going back there,” Shane shakes his head.

Andrew fiddles with his fingers, staring at a spot on the wall. The scratch marks there remind him of a smiley face. _That looks like more me than me_ , the voice giggles around him. Ryland hangs around behind Shane and Morgan sits on the sofa, odd expression on both their faces.

“I just,” Andrew shrugs after a moment. “There was something I had to do. I’m fine.”

Shane sighs, exasperated. “You stumble here at ungodly hours with cobwebs and mud on your clothes. There are actual spiders on your jacket, not just one but a _lot_.” (Ryland shudders in the background.) “You always look like you’re about to fall over from lack of sleep, you tune out at random moments staring into empty space.”

His expression softens. “I know you guys were closer than anything, I know it’s been especially hard on you. You can’t tell us it’s fine because it’s not. Anyone can see that.”

“What _is_ going on, Andrew?” Morgan finally speaks up. He bites his lip.

The voice is quiet, as if holding his breath.

 

•—•• • •— •••— •

 

_Get up, Andrew_ , the voice insists. _Get up, get up, hurry_. Andrew scrunches his face, his eyes still closed. It’s dawn and he’s waking up at the patio again. The familiar tiny house would be just beyond. There is a strong hand holding his own, pulling. _It’s too cold. Andrew, c’mon._

“Oh, god,” he chokes out. His own voice is barely there.

The touch on his hand is quickly gone. _I’m sorry, Andrew, I didn’t mean to do this, I really didn’t_. The voice wavers in the breeze. _But you can’t stay here. I, I can’t stay here_.

_I’ll leave_ , the voice sighs after a moment.

No. “No,” he lifts his head and scrambles up. His bones creak in the early morning chill. “No, wait, don’t go.” He flails, trying to get the thin webs off his face.

 

—— •

 

Andrew sits in that one clean spot on the mattress, leans back into the musty pillow and opens his laptop. It’s fully charged for the occasion. _I swear, ‘Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone’ is the best in the series_ , the voice chimes excitedly. “I believe you,” he nods and pulls up the movie _. Ooh, should I whip out my wand for this? Or should I say wands? You can have one too if you want to._ He can hear the voice bustling around the room, and the corner of his mouth twitches just slightly. “No, I don’t think so. Just come sit here.”

_Oh. Okay_. The mattress dips slightly next to him, and he feels the now-familiar hollow warmth. He could almost smile in these moments. The movie begins. It is very silent except for the low tunes and whispers from the magical world. Dust settles quietly on the cobwebs covering the room.

 

•••• • •—• •

 

“Garrett,” he whispers, “No. Don't leave.”

It’s freezing. He is alone.

 

•— •—•• ——— —• •

 

“What is really, like _really_ , happening to you?” Morgan is carefully staring past him, as if to avoid seeing something there. “It’s almost like Garrett’s still there. Like you _think_ he’s there.” Ryland looks at her, then him. Shane looks around with wide eyes.

The voice whispers an apology. Andrew cannot tell between remembrance and reality anymore.

 

•• •————• ——

 

“The tragic disappearance of popular Youtube vlogger, Garrett Watts, still remains an unsolved mystery. He was last heard from at his home, one he referred to in his vlog as the ‘tiny house’—”

The laptop screen flickers, then dies out. Andrew looks up from the living room couch. He is past minding the spiders now. What light that is seeping through the dirty window is casting strange shadows in front of him, a shape almost like a man.

_You can’t stay here_ , the voice sighs somewhere above.

“Who says I can’t?” He answers back, heat rising at the back of his neck. He knows he’s angry for no reason. Who was there to fault? “I’ll come here and I’ll stay here as long as I want to.” As I need to, have to. He shuts his mouth before the words spill out.

_This is not right, it’s not okay. I’m really worried about you, you know_. The voice pauses for a moment. _You know I’m not coming back, right? I’m not here, not really_.

“But you _are_ here,” Andrew tries to argue. “You are here with me.”

_I am the one that keeps pulling you here!_ The voice rings louder. He winces. _In this, this spider-nest of a mess that’s way too cold and dusty for your health! Don’t act like it’s not, I’ve seen you shiver and cough. This ghost house might just swallow you up, just, take you over before you know it. And I can’t stop it, stop you from coming because I’m too_ scared _! I don’t know what I am, don’t know if I even exist!_

 

Then, it falls quiet. There is a small sniffling sound.

_I don’t want to be like this, Andrew_. Garrett whimpers. _I don’t know what to do. Please_.

“You are here,” Andrew tries. “That’s all that matters to me.”

 

“ _Please, don’t leave_.”

 

•••• • •—• •

 

Morgan visits him some other time. After knocking, knocking again, ringing his cell for what feels like hours, she finally calls her brother. Police sirens follow.

It is said that his room was covered in cobwebs, a thin veil over everything.

Beyond the bones of pale wooden lattices, the tiny house is still shrouded in the mist, now fully deserted. There are always two sets of footsteps wandering behind dusty windows, among gossamer shadows. They say you can hear a bright, giddy laughter if you walk close enough. If you stay, you might hear another.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> it's halloween month, i wanted to write something scary and also was thinking about how much spiders garrett has in/near his home. in the end i think i made myself sad more than scared. also i wrote this a while ago so i could have mis-referenced stuff (hopefully not).  
> thank you for reading !


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